


Nobody Here But Us Chickens

by zoemathemata



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crack Fic, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-20
Updated: 2011-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:42:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemathemata/pseuds/zoemathemata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SGA Bad!Fic inspired by the movie Chicken Run. Really, do you need to know more than that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody Here But Us Chickens

It was hot.

And dark.

Did he mention the hot? Because his feathers were very sensitive and would not do well in this kind of heat. They’d stick together and get tufty. He might even start to molt.

Even though it was dark, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about the fact that he was confined to The Box.

“Clear blue skies, clear blue skies…” he murmured.

“Perhaps instead of thinking of clear blue skies you should learn to be a happy rooster and stop trying to escape.”

He cracked one eye open and tilted his beak to the side where he could hear Radek. “Did I _ask_ for your opinion? No. When I want you’re opinion, I’ll give it to you. And you know, you should be grateful, _grateful_ that I sally forth and tarry on and never say die because without me, you’re just a bunch of chickens-”

“I am rooster,” interrupted Radek.

“ _Scared chickens_ ” continued Rodney, “Who are too _chicken shit_ to even try!”

“All trying seems to get you is more time in The Box.”

Rodney sighed and wished he had lips so that he could curl them disdainfully at Radek.

Even if he was in the pitch dark where the other rooster couldn’t see him.

“I’m telling you, something is _up_. Our farm has been sold, _sold_ and the only thing I have learned so far about our new owners is their name. _Wraith Chicken Farms_. Not Egg Farm, _Chicken_ farm. Does that sound pleasant to you? Because it certainly doesn’t to me. We need to escape!”

He heard Radek pecking around outside the box. The orange and black rooster was likely scratching at the dirt, absently searching for grubs while he considered his next words.

“Maybe it will not be so bad.”

Rodney jumped to his forked feet and scurried over to the side of The Box where Radek’s voice was coming from.

“Not bad? Not bad? I think I saw the parts for a chicken chopping machine go by the other day. We need to escape, Radek. Figure out a way under that fence.”

“But how? Farmer Michael catches you every time and puts you in The Box for a day.”

“I don’t know how. I’ve tried digging, I’ve tried tunneling and then last week there was that machine I built that was supposed to cut the chain-links and lift them at the same time.”

“Ah yes. Simpson’s feathers have not grown back yet. She’ll likely have that bald patch for life.”

“Well it’s not like it affects her egg laying any,” Rodney huffed. “I’m trying to save our _lives_ here. What’s a little bald patch?”

“If anyone would know, it would be you.”

“I heard that and I have a very distinguished widow’s peak! All the McKay roosters have it. It’s part of my plume!”

“Rodney, the point is, you are never going to make it under that fence,” Radek said.

Rodney began to pace the small confines of The Box. “No, there’s got to be a way, has to be a way. We’ve got to get out of here. More machine parts are coming in every day and I’m telling you Radek, they mean to kill us.”

“Are you sure you are not Chicken Littling?”

Rodney gasped and pecked at the wooden slat he hoped was near Radek’s ear. “Quit being so sunny side up! If we don’t find a way out of here, we’re clucked.”

***

After he was finally (finally!) released from The Box, Rodney set to work on his new plan.

They weren’t going to go under the fence. They were going _over_.

“Kusanagi!” he squawked. “Get over here and hold this pin in place!”

Miko, a delicate brown hen had the best beak in the yard. Fine and pointed well, she could hold small pieces in place while he worked.

She scurried over from across the pen, forked feet flying in her haste. Immediately seeing where she was needed, she tipped her head down and placed her beak on the pin while Rodney worked around her.

“We’re going over, Miko,” Rodney grumbled as he worked. “Over the fence. I’ve calculated the trajectory we should get from this catapult and it will put is inline with the Athos bird sanctuary. We’ll be free.” Rodney picked up a small length of wire and began twisting it with his feet and beak, securing the pin Miko was holding. “Where’s Dumais? She was supposed to be helping me with this!”

A hush fell over the pen. Simpson and Brahms stopped scratching and collecting grubs. Radek looked around awkwardly from his perch. A small cluster of hens tittered nervously. Rodney eyeballed them.

“What?”

Miko let go of the pin she was holding now that Rodney had secured it with wire. “She was taken this morning,” she said quietly.

“Taken? Where? Why?”

Miko’s feathers shuddered. “Farmer Michael took her,” she replied and then added in a hushed whisper, “no eggs.”

“What?! Why didn’t someone tell me? Couldn’t someone have spared some?”

Miko shook her head. “It was a surprise gathering. You were still in The Box.”

“That was hours ago. And she hasn’t been returned?”

Miko looked away. Rodney swiveled his head to Radek who was pecking forlornly at a piece of wood.

The hen house was silent, the pen was still.

Rodney went back to work on the catapult and in minutes, he was sure he had it in working order.

“All right! I need a volunteer!” he clucked.

The hens all tried to look busy and Radek started scribbling furiously in his notebook.

“I’d do it myself,” Rodney said, although the truth was, he wouldn’t. “But I need to be watching to collect the resultant data. So!” He flapped his wings. “Who’s going to step up for science? Nay, for _freedom_!”

Still silence. Rodney glowered.

“Radek!”

Radek jumped and a few feathers flew out of his chest. “Yes?”

Rodney gestured with his wing. “Into the bucket.”

“Ah, but you see, I am afraid of heights, yes? And this appears, with the lever, that it will go quite high and I do not think-”

“Too _chicken_?” Rodney taunted.

Radek glanced around, saw all the hens staring at him and with a loud swallow, puffed out his chest feathers and toddled over to the bucket. He stepped inside gingerly and shook his tail feathers slightly to fan them out before he sat down. His wings curled over the sides of the bucket in a tight grip.

“Just remember to let go at the point of launch,” Rodney said, not looking up at Radek as he made his way to the spring load.

Radek had time to give a quick nod to Miko who waved tentatively at him before he heard the snap of the spring load and he felt himself being hurled up, higher and higher and then suddenly the bucket dropped out and he was flying! He was flying! He was going toward the fence! He…

...wasn’t going to make it!

He started flapping his wings madly, trying to slow down, speed up, he didn’t know what and then -

SPLAT!

He hit the fence.

The last thing he heard before he passed out was Rodney grumbling.

“We’re sitting ducks.”

***

That night, Rodney did something he had never done before.

He prayed.

Squatting in his rooster box, looking out on the hen house, seeing all the woebegone eyes and downturned beaks, he felt lost.

“Listen, it’s not like I believe in you or anything because frankly, you’ve not done much by way of proving yourself, and I’m all about the proof. The scientific proof. I know I’m just one rooster on a small farm, but really? Would it have killed you to give me a sign at some point? Hell, if Radek had laid one egg, I would have been a believer.” He sighed. “But if you _are_ real, we could really use some help. I could really use some help. These chickens… well they don’t exactly look up to me, but I’m all they’ve got. Well, I mean, they’ve got each other. And Radek too, but really, if someone’s going to get them out of here, it’s going to be me. And I need some help.”

He paused, listening with his tiny chicken ears.

Nothing.

“Great. Thanks for nothing, motherclucker.”

He was just drifting off to sleep when he heard it. A loud CRACK! Followed by the sound of… well, it sounded like someone, some _rooster_ hollering ‘YEE-HAW.’

The hens heard it too and in a bustle of feathers and squawking they hustled outside. Looking around it appeared nothing was amiss until Radek crowed, “Look!”

Rodney looked up, where Radek’s wing was pointing and there it was. There _he_ was. A rooster.

And he was _flying_.

He was sailing through the air, flapping his wings with a blissed out expression on his face. It was impossible! It couldn’t be! Roosters couldn’t fly! Rodney let out a squawk of indignation, of disbelief.

The sound must have carried because the flying rooster looked down, looked _right at Rodney_ and winked!

And then he hit the iron weather vane.

With a dull clang and spray of feathers, he fell from the sky and landed in a heap on the ground.

They were all frozen solid for about three seconds and then the hens, in a mad flurry, scurried forward and surrounded the fallen rooster.

“Oh my god are you all right?”

“Careful, Biro. He might be hurt!”

“Is he okay? Did he hurt himself?”

“Look at that plume! He’s a looker.”

“Oh, and he can _fly_. Did you see him? It was magnificent!”

Rodney trotted over as fast as his chicken legs would carry him and started pushing and shoving hens out of the way. “Move aside! He could be dangerous!”

“Oh, he’s so handsome!”

Rodney scowled. The hens, it would seem, were quite taken with their winged stranger. Rodney eyeballed him. He couldn’t see what the fuss was about. The rooster was a mite thin, if you asked him, scrawny and wiry. His plume was _ridiculous_ , all spikey and out of place, mussed up and messy. Rodney wouldn’t be caught dead with his plum looking like that. The strange rooster blinked a few times and then opened his eyes fully and the circle of hens, (plus Rodney and Radek) took a step back.

“Well, hello ladies.”

The hens tittered and Rodney stiffened. Of course. Of course he would _drawl_ like that.

“Are you all right?” Biro asked, batting her eyes at the rooster on the ground.

He lifted a wing and rubbed the back of his head and plume a bit, forcing it to stick up even more. “Got the wind knocked out of me a bit, sure, but I’m okay,” he said with a smile.

Biro giggled.

Rodney rolled his eyes and clucked. “Yes, yes, we’re all fantastically relieved you didn’t kill yourself. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

The rooster turned to look at Rodney and his smile got wider. “I’m John Sheppard. Just passing through.”

“You can fly!” exclaimed Miko and John turned to her.

“Sure,” he said with a shrug, looking a little sheepish.

“Er,” interrupted Radek. “Could you teach us?”

John looked nervous and stammered a bit. “Well, it’s not easy, you know. Takes a lot of training. Dedication. Motivation.”

Rodney felt more suspicion curl into his gut.

“Oh, we’re motivated,” said Biro. “Really. You’ve never seen chickens so motivated, isn’t that right girls? And, er, Rodney and Radek.”

All the hens nodded ferociously as did Radek. Rodney crossed his wings over his chest.

Something was funny, here. Rotten.

“Uh, sure, then,” said John. “I mean, I guess.”

Rodney narrowed his eyes and John happened to look over at him and gave him a big smile.

Rotten like a bad egg.

***

Rodney was roused the next morning by the annoying sounds of morning chickens doing morning things and enjoying them.

He could hear hens giggling, tittering, chattering, hooting and hollering.

And interspersed amongst it all was the lazy drawl of the new rooster, John Sheppard.

He knew it went against his very nature as a rooster, but Rodney was just not a morning kind of bird. Mornings were for sleeping. For thinking. For burrowing your head into your feathers and getting a few more minutes of shut-eye.

The ruckus was unbelievable. What the cluck were they doing out there?

He stumbled out of his crate and waddled over to a crack in the wooden slats of the hen house. He could just make out John’t tail feathers and wow, what impressive feathers they were.

He shook himself. That was completely beside the point. He peered through the slats again.

It looked like John was leading the ladies (and Radek) through calisthenics.

Oh dear god, they were _exercising_.

John was showing them all push-ups and sit-ups, going around to the hens and helping them with their form (hence the giggling and tittering) and at one point, he bent over to help Radek (hence the hooting and hollering).

The hens were impressed with John, it would seem.

But instead of cock-strutting around, he had a sort of lazy slouch and he _moseyed_ around them, almost immune to their clucks and giggles. He had some kind of sling on one of his wings, claiming he bruised it badly in the fall. Biro and Miko had been only too happy to construct him a make-shift sling out of some scraps of fabric they had lying about.

Rodney didn’t like it.

The training, not the sling.

Admittedly, Rodney didn’t know much about exercise, but he knew about physics. And what physics told him was this:

Chickens (and roosters) couldn’t fly.

Oh sure, he might manage a few feet or so, get up in the air for a few hops and jumps. But to clear the fence? To fly through the air like other birds?

The physics (and biology he had to grudgingly admit) didn’t add up.

Their mass was too heavy, their wings too small, their chests too big.

Perhaps John Sheppard was some freak of nature. Maybe his lanky frame and ridiculous plumage offered him some kind of bizarre advantage.

But your run of the mill chicken?

No clucking way.

So that left Rodney still firmly entrenched in a quandary. How to get them out of the farm and to the Athos bird sanctuary?

They certainly wouldn’t be flying.

Or would they?

He hurriedly scampered over to his work table, pushing off all the catapult designs and pulling a fresh piece of parchment out.

He didn’t think John Sheppard could make chickens fly, but he, Rodney McKay, just might.

***

“Whatcha working on?”

Rodney sighed. It didn’t matter how many times he told John Sheppard to leave him alone, the rooster seemed to show up inside Rodney’s workshop any number of times during the day. John was slouching against the door jamb, staring at Rodney intently.

“Same thing I was working on yesterday.”

“Oh. The flying machine thing?”

“Yes. The flying machine _thing_. Shouldn’t you be doing jumping jacks or leading a square dance or whatever it is you’ve been doing with the hens? And Radek?”

“Can’t train too much. Makes the muscles overexert themselves.”

“Yes. Well, fortunately brain cells aren’t the same and I can work all the time and only get smarter, unlike the rest of the dumb clucks out there.”

“You’re some kind of genius bird, aren’t you?” asked John as he stepped into the workshop and peered over Rodney’s shoulder to look at the drawings.

Rodney preened a little. “Yes. I am.”

“Soooooo,” John said, drawing it out, acting casual. Too casual. He tapped at the drawings with his wing. “Think you can get it work?”

“What’s it to you? Thought you could fly and were imparting your great and sacred knowledge, which appears to consist only of rudimentary calisthenics, to the hens? And Radek.”

John looked down and shuffled his forked feet, kicking up some dirt. “Yeah, the thing is, Rodney,” John began. “I… can’t… fly.”

Rodney stared hard at him and gestured at John’s sling. “So I gathered, with the sling and all.”

“No, I… I mean I… I could never… fly.”

Rodney hadn’t known that a rooster could blush so red until that moment. He hadn’t even really realized they could mumble too.

He thought mumbling took lips, but apparently not.

“What are you talking about? You flew in here your first day! You’ve been teaching the hens flying exercises for days! You said they were learning how to fly!”

“...mumble mumble, grumble, never thought it would go this far… mumble mumble shot out of a canon.”

“You were _shot_ out of a _canon_!??!” Rodney squawked.

John winced. “Kind of?”

“What kind of bird brain lets himself get shot out of a canon?”

“I kind of like it.”

“You _what_? No, never mind. That’s a completely and totally different reason for me to rip your head off and point out your stupidity. Let’s get back to the part now where _you can’t fly_ and you’ve been giving flying lessons.”

John shuffled his feet again, his clawed toes digging into the dirt. “I never thought it would go this far.”

“Well, your chickens have certainly come home to roost, haven’t they? You’ve got all the hens, and Radek, convinced they can fly and that we’re gonna fly the coop.”

“But that’s just it, Rodney,” John said, his eyes pleading. “We _can_.”

Rodney crossed his wings over his chest. “How?”

John swept his good wing over Rodney’s plans. “With your flying machine. It’s amazing.”

Despite his genius, Rodney felt a shock of uncertainly run through him. “It’s completely untested and if you’d seen the way the last two devices turned out…”

John shook his head, his spiked plume bobbing. “No, I know you can do it, Rodney. Your numbers look good, and with the wingspan you’ve got here, you’ll get more than enough lift -”

“Wait, wait,” said Rodney. “Now you’re giving me flying advice? You just told me you don’t know anything about flying!”

“I said _I_ couldn’t fly. I never said I didn’t know anything about flying.”

Rodney shut his beak tightly. “How do I know this isn’t some cock and bull story? You lied about flying, you could be lying about this.”

John took a step forward and placed his wing on Rodney’s shoulder. “But I’m not. I swear.” He blinked his hazel eyes at Rodney imploringly. “You can do this. _We_ can do this.”

“I hope you’re right.”

***

The first thing Rodney insisted was that John tell the hens (and Radek) the truth.

They needed all the help they could get on the flying machine; gathering materials, assembly, construction, trials… and they couldn’t afford to have any chicken waste anytime thinking they were going to fly out under their own power.

They were all assembled in the hen house, John in the center while the hens clustered around him. Radek stood back, with Rodney and raised his eyebrow.

“What is big revelation?” Radek asked.

Rodney jerked his beak toward John who was starting to speak.

“Uh,” began John, rubbing the back of his neck with his good wing. “The thing is, ladies, and Radek, I wasn’t exactly truthful with you all when I arrived.”

There was a collective, worried gasp from the hens.

“Are you in trouble?”

“Do you need a place to hide?”

“You can hide in my roost? Ow, Biro, that _hurt_! I’m just saying if the rooster needs a place to hide, my roost is always open.”

“We all know exactly how open your roost is.”

“Hey! That’s was uncalled for!”

“Ladies, ladies,” John said, raising his wings. “Please. Settle your feathers. See, the truth of it is… well.. When I… landed… see it wasn’t exactly like I told a lie… it’s just that… perhaps… I wasn’t… entirely… but you were all so hopeful… and,” at this John stole a glance at Rodney, “and when I saw you, from the sky, I just thought, that’s the one.”

Another collective gasp went up as each hen imagined that the rooster John Sheppard was about to declare undying love to her.

“And maybe I was crowing a bit. Showing off. Shake a tail feather and all that. But the thing is… I… well…”

“Oh for cluck’s sake,” Rodney said and pushed hens aside roughly with his wings as he worked his way through the crowd to get to John. “He can’t fly, okay? He lied about flying, he was shot out of a canon and then he crashed and he can’t fly. He never could fly. Everyone up to speed now? Hmm?”

A hush fell over the hen house and then Simpson spoke.

“McKay, I’m sure you’re jealous because John’s better looking than you-”

“Hey!”

“And funnier,” added Biro.

“And perhaps nicer,” added Miko.

“And he’s very charming,” said Radek and at Rodney’s outraged glare he added, “What? It’s true.”

“But,” continued Simpson. “That’s no reason for you to disparage his character like this.”

Rodney was outraged. “What?”

“Ladies, ladies, I’m afraid it’s true.”

Another hen gasp erupted.

“I didn’t think… I mean I didn’t realize how much my small-”

Rodney squawked.

“Okay, my rather large lie would affect you all.”

Miko trembled, her feathers shaking. “So we’re not going to be able to fly out of here?”

“No, that’s just it. We _are_ going to fly out of here. Rodney’s designed this machine-”

“Oh, not another machine,” exclaimed one of the hens. “We’ve seen what happened the last few times.”

“This one’s different,” John said earnestly and Rodney felt the cockles of his heart warm at the certainty in John’s voice. “This one will work. But we need you to help.”

Silence again filled the room.

“Um, you need ‘who’ to help?” asked Biro.

“You. All of you,” John said with a sweep of his wing. “We’re going to build a flying machine and then we’re going to fly this coop.”

***

Biro was their best egg layer and they set her to work laying eggs to cover the rest of the hens that were too busy helping Rodney with the flying machine.

John and Radek pitched in with the heavy lifting, and occasionally with the math and/or physics, but it was the hens that took on the brunt of the delicate work, their smaller and more refined beaks able to perform tasks the roosters couldn’t hope to do.

There were a couple of tense moments.

First, Farmer Michael showed up for another surprise gathering only this time, the hens were ready for him and everyone had at least two eggs in their roost.

Biro was exhausted but holding up.

Secondly, a truck full of machinery arrived to the farm and Rodney went pale (well, as pale as a rooster can go) when he realized what all the parts he was seeing going by were for.

Pie making machine.

They doubled and then tripled their efforts.

John couldn’t help but keep himself close to Rodney most of the time. The genius rooster was tired and running on no sleep, working day and night on the plans and the assembly, checking over everyone’s beak work to make sure it was right, it was perfect and they wouldn’t all die a fiery death after crashing.

Although, if the alternative was being turned into pies… John supposed that getting his goose cooked (so to speak) wasn’t a bad way to go.

He hadn’t been lying when he said he’d been distracted by the sight of Rodney. Those blue eyes, that sharply shaped plume, his broad shoulders and wings… he was a fine piece of meat and John wouldn’t mind getting to know him a bit better.

But that meant they’d have to get out of the farm first.

It was the night of the big escape and tensions were running high. Last minute preparations kept them all busy. The hens were clucking softly to one another, reassuringly. Each of them taking their turn being stoic and optimistic for the others.

Radek was gathering up their things, packing them away in the storage bins Rodney constructed for the flying machine.

Rodney…

Rodney was going over every inch of the machine with his wings and beak, searching for anything amiss, anything wrong. John hopped over to him.

“It’s perfect, Rodney. Really.”

Rodney looked up at him and John saw the uncertainly in his eyes. “Really? You think so? Because I wondered if I should have maybe cut the wingspan a bit, it’s going to be a tight fit through those trees and-”

John cut him off by pressing his beak to Rodney’s quickly and then he stepped forward and burrowed his beak into Rodney’s soft, warm feathers.

“What are you - Oh, I… well…”

Rodney turned his beak into John’s neck feathers and John felt the hot exhalation of Rodney’s breath against his neck.

“When… when we get to the sanctuary,” John stammered, unable to pull back and look Rodney in the eye. “Do you think that maybe… that maybe we could…”

“Yes. Yes, I do,” Rodney said quietly into John’s feathers.

John sagged against Rodney and felt Rodney’s wings pet him lightly.

A throat was cleared behind them and they pulled back from each other, startled.

“It’s time,” said Radek.

Rodney jutted his beak out and nodded. He raised his voice to address the group.

“I just want to say… You’ve all… This is good work. And I know I’m not the easiest rooster to get along with, but you’ve all… and I…”

“What Rodney means,” said John, “is thank you.”

Rodney nodded gruffly and they all climbed into the machine.

Rodney was in the first seat, John right behind him in the pilot’s seat. Rodney hoped he could navigate well enough for John to fly them and safely land at Athos. And if not…

Radek, in the final seat, started the count off, declaring himself ‘one.’ The rest of the hens counted off their number in sequence.

John was number thirty nine.

Rodney was forty.

Forty lives depended on his idea, on his insistence that they get off the farm and make a break for it. As he pulled the release mechanism that collapsed the hen house and started the machine rolling, Rodney prayed again to the god he didn’t believe in that they would make it.

The machine lurched forward and everyone started peddling, their cranks forcing the giant wings to flap. They wobbled, they swayed and then they reached the end of the take off strip and…

They were flying!

They sailed over the chain link fence and chorus of cheers rose up from the hens. Laughter, tears, and happy coos were music to Rodney’s ears.

They made it!

They were going to be all right!

He felt John lean forward in his seat, felt John’s beak against his neck feathers.

“You did it,” John said softly.

“We all did it.”  
  
***


End file.
